Yes, I know I marked it as complete, but I had a very nice reviewer ask for something else. Plus, I need a break from my Artemis Fowl stories, a break until my birthday. (one incomplete with lots of followers, one that stinks and needs to be rewritten, and another one that also stinks and needs to be rewritten)

So, another scene from Glasgow.

-2whitie

Disclaimer: Really?

I feel awful. I re-read the awesome ending, and now I'm confused to where exactly Glasgow is, until I stopped being a stupid person I found out it wasn't in the US like I stated in my earlier chapter. So for this story, let's assume he's in a school in America with other flying-obsessed people.

Conor smiled at a man passing by. He had decided to go flying again tonight after being shut up in a stuffy room all day, and he needed to unwind. He had checked the weather, and he was coming back from looking for potential landing spots. Testing was not made any easier by having Rylee staring at him all week like he might turn invisible or shoot lightning bolts at everyone, so he found as wide patch of high grass away from houses.

He turned and ran up the academy steps and ducked into the stairwell, where the wall of musty air hit him. It seemed to affect him, because he slowed down. He pushed his blond hair out of the way, and used his free hand to push open the door to his room. His roommate was out with a friend, said something about a beer, so Conor didn't have to stuff himself under the bed to change into his Airman uniform.

He slipped on the streamlined uniform and pushed the goggles over his head. On second thought he pulled his cap and goggles off. About twenty minutes until it was fully dark,, he might as well eat.

He stuffed a roll down hi throat, and chewing, opened the window. It was getting darker than expected. Perfect. He slipped his cap on and carefully put the goggles over his eyes.

Dragging the glider out from under the bed, he tested the wind with a licked finger. Perfect.

Perfect wind, speed, no storms on the horizon. Perfect night.

He threw himself out of the window, and within a few seconds, a wind picked him up and threw him high, high enough that anyone with night vision would see someone about as big a s a sparrow. He had been higher before, but the wave of adrenaline still caught him.

The wind was slanted upward, and his glider went with the wind, but Conor knew that if he went any higher he might overshoot his landing spot. He tilted his glider and strained his left arm by pushing down. The glider lost momentum and started to drop. Conor up righted himself in his glider and started falling, until he felt a draft rushing past his cheeks, pulling them back, and he opened them and was immediately propelled forward by the fast wind. The Streetlight illuminated the town below, but he had no time to enjoy it, he was too busy messing with the steering bar to keep his craft level to notice. He was going faster than ever before, and subconsciously enjoying it, the rush of the air. Sooner than normal he saw the edge of town, and the patch of grass that he needed to land on. He started to look for the signs of a slower draft to dip down onto, and saw something else. A scuffle.

He looked closer and saw a classic scene, a group of men being held at gunpoint by another group of armed men. He didn't have to hear them, but the general message got across. Give us everything of value.

He didn't stop to think about his actions. He immediately wrapped his glider into the straight line that would cause it to stop riding daft's. It fell, fast. He opened them about fifteen feet above the men, the sudden updraft slowing him down. It jerked p ward, but didn't slow him down enough. Conor stuck out his riding boots, and knew from personal experience that men made soft landings.

His heels caught unto the man's hood and Conor had come down too suddenly, dragging the man with him quite a distance before the glider stopped moving, the man screaming. Conor did a little somersault to land while drawing his sabre. Another gust of wind caught his wings at the end, making it look even more impressive. The other man was out cold, and he faced three more men, no big deal. He slashed down on one mans arm, brought a leg around to trip him, and not only tripped him, but was elevated a few feet into the air by the motion, and the foot continued into the other man's face.

He landed on the balls of his feet and sheathed his sword in the same motion. He nodded at the men and felt an easy breeze to ride coming and jumped into the air, disappearing into the night, the darkness had swallowed him.

Conor was back in school, feeling refreshed. He attacked his page of maths, with vigor. He was listening to one boy recount something, and understandably he was interested.

"So my dad was about to get robbed last night, and a giant bat thing suddenly appeared out of nowhere and beat the pudding out of all the bad guys."

"A bat. Really?"

"Well, he wasn't sure what it was. It was a dark night though."

Rylee shot him a look from across the room and Conor tried to look interested in what he was doing. He felt the laser stare boring into is brain and looked up sheepishly, shrugged, and moved ont the next problem.

Happy Halloween! Yeah, this is my present. Im handing out candy this year, so I will get a white sheet, cut out 2 holes, and but black sots all over it, and have a plastic bag of rocks. If you got that, you rock. No pun intended. My birthday is on Nov 1, so give me a present and review.

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